


S is for Sacher-Masoch

by HPFandom_archivist



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Angst, BDSM, Chan, Explicit Language, First Time, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Sexual Content, Slash sex, Spoilers, Tragedy, Voyeurism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2008-01-10
Updated: 2008-01-09
Packaged: 2018-09-30 12:02:25
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Underage
Chapters: 7
Words: 6,719
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10162631
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HPFandom_archivist/pseuds/HPFandom_archivist
Summary: A few episodes from the relationship between Harry and Snape, based solely upon the films, not the books. My main intention has been to keep my Snape in character with Alan Rickman's interpretation, while taking the already obviously erotically and sadistically charged relationship of especially the latest film a bit further. Oh, and Harry is meant to be of age (15) in all scenes but the rather innocent first one, where he is 13.Please have patience with the strong resemblance between my first chapter and a scene from the film Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban. Things will change in later chapters.This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoat Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.





	1. The Marauder's Map

**Author's Note:**

> Note from SeparatriX, the archivist: this story was originally archived at [HP Fandom](http://fanlore.org/wiki/HP_Fandom_\(archive\)), which was closed for health and financial reasons. To preserve the archive, I began manually importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in August 2016. I e-mailed all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact me using the e-mail address on [HP Fandom collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/hpfandom/profile).

“Mischief managed!” Harry whispered hurriedly, and put out the light of his wand with a: “Nox.”  
A little while later, the corridor was lit by professor Snape’s wand.  
“Potter!” the professor spat, “What are you doing, wandering the corridors at night?”  
Harry trembled.  
“I was sleepwalking.” he blurted out, well aware that Snape would never believe it.  
“How extraordinarily like your father you are, Potter.” Snape remarked, “He too was exceedingly arrogant, strutting about the castle.”  
“My dad didn’t strut, and nor do I!” Harry protested, against all sense.   
He just couldn’t help himself. Nobody insulted his father, not even the school’s most feared teacher!  
“If you don’t mind, I would appreciate it if you could lower your wand.” he added foolhardily, annoyed by the light in his face, which risked to reveal how little courage he had to back up his cheek.  
Instead of the expected reprimand, professor Snape did lower his wand and let his gaze follow down Harry’s figure. Harry immediately regretted his bold request.  
“Turn out your pockets.” the teacher commanded.  
Harry obediently took out the marauder’s map, which Snape snatched from his hand and put in his own pocket without as much as a glance on it.  
“Turn out your pockets.” he repeated.  
Harry didn’t move. He had already handed over the only thing he’d had in his pockets. Yet the professor’s gaze remained fixed at the same spot.  
“Is that your wand you have in your pocket, Mr Potter, or…?” he asked in a voice that was completely deadpan apart from the curious emphasis placed on the word “wand”.  
He didn’t finish the sentence, merely raised an interrogative eyebrow. Harry blinked. He could hardly believe his ears. Had Snape really suggested…? The professor’s face was frozen in a rhetorical question. Before Harry had the chance to reply, he had spun on his heel and walked away, putting out the light of his wand as he walked. The only thing suggesting he had just been there was the faint swishing of his cloak, which soon died away.  
Harry swallowed, painfully aware of the bulge in his pants. It was there, it had been there when Snape had remarked upon it. In fact, it had been there ever since Harry had spotted the professor’s name on the marauder’s map. What in the heavens did it mean? Fear? He had heard fear could have that effect.  
He clenched his jaw, furious to be humiliated once again by one of Snape’s poisonous remarks. The nocturnal escapade had lost its charm and he hurried back to the dormitory, only to toss in bed, unable to sleep.


	2. Detention

Harry had received detention. What more, he had received detention with professor Snape. With a lump in his throat he opened the door to the classroom and realised he was the only one on detention this evening.  
Snape was standing in wait for him, his arms folded. When he saw Harry approach, he stretched out his arm and pointed at a desk with one of his sudden, serpentlike movements, and Harry made to go and sit at it. Before he had the chance to sit down, however, Snape grabbed him by the hair and forced him forward over the desk. Harry assumed the humiliation and discomfort of the position was to be part of his punishment. The teacher left him standing thus while he paced about the room, questioning Harry in the art of potion making.   
After some time, when Harry’s legs had begun to tremble from the strain of standing bent over the desk, Snape came and stood behind him, just out of sight. So far, Harry had answered all of his questions correctly, thanks to Hermione’s hints and sheer luck, but having the professor hover over him just out of sight made him nervous enough to forget something as vital as what a bezoar was good for.  
“What is the difference between deadly nightshade and belladonna?” Snape demanded.  
“Deadly nightshade is… deadlier, sir?” Harry guessed.  
“Wrong.”  
Harry felt something hard – Snape’s wand – lash down across his buttocks. He winced, more surprised than hurt. The stinging pain spread a tingly feeling through his entire body and to his stunned amazement he felt something stir in the front of his pants. Snape continued interrogating him as if nothing had occurred, but Harry was too flummoxed to remember anything at all from potions class. For each incorrect answer, Snape whipped his wand across Harry’s buttocks. Harry, now prepared, clenched his teeth, determined not to make another sound.  
“Clearly, this isn’t enough to correct an ignorance as great as yours.” Snape decided after the third lashing, “Please remove your trousers, Mr Potter.”  
Harry didn’t move.  
“I said, remove your trousers.” Snape repeated with a gesture of his wand that made Harry’s pants fall to the floor.   
Harry shut his eyes hard and prayed the teacher wouldn’t notice the bulge in front of his underwear. Professor Snape used his bare hand instead of magic to remove the remaining layer of cloth from Harry’s behind, and Harry feared the teacher must have felt the fabric tugging at the his straining sex. He braced himself in preparation for the wand whipping down across his naked buttocks.   
Instead, he sensed rather than heard the professor tamper with many small buttons. Something warm and hard and larger than a wand touched Harry’s buttocks, and he could feel it pressing bluntly against the tight opening between them.   
“Am I too large for you, Mr Potter?” Snape enquired in his most deadpan voice.  
“N – no sir.” Harry panted.  
He wished desperately to be filled up by the immensity of that which the professor pressed against him, and intensely imagined accommodating it. It worked like magic on his tense muscles, and the first inch of it slipped inside him. He gasped.  
“You think you can take all of me, Potter?” Snape asked, still in the same deadpan voice.  
“Yes, sir. Please, sir.” Harry whimpered.  
“Very well.”  
Snape grabbed him by the hair and forced his head up.   
As he thrust the full length of himself into Harry he muttered under his breath: “Just like your father.”  
Harry wasn’t sure he’d heard correctly, and for the time being he didn’t care. Snape had hit a spot he didn’t know he had in him and he saw stars bursting and cascading in front of his still closed eyes. Everything melted away: the desk he was leaning on, the classroom, the absurdity of the situation… All he could feel was a pleasure so strong it made him cry out.  
When he came to, Snape was behind his desk correcting essays. Harry couldn’t tell whether the teacher had transported himself there via magic, or whether Harry had indeed been so far gone he hadn’t noticed him crossing the room. He seemed to mean for the student to collect himself and leave without as much as a look. But Harry had no intention of letting him get away with that. Snape might have had him completely in his power a moment ago, but now he recalled what he’d heard, or thought he’d heard, and he wanted answers. Demanded them! He strutted up to the teacher’s desk as determinedly as his trembling knees would let him, but as he stood before him he was lost for words.  
“Yes?” Snape enquired coolly.  
His dark glance hit Harry like a spell, but he braced himself against it and worked up the courage to ask: “What’s that you said about my father?”  
“Do you really want to know?” Snape’s voice was full of contempt.  
“Yes!” Harry almost screamed.  
“Very well.” Snape calmly put down his quill and looked Harry in the eyes, “Your father frequently came creeping into Snivellus’” – he spat out the word – “bed, so full of guilt he let me have him any way I pleased.”  
“He didn’t!” Harry gasped.  
“Oh yes, he did.” The shadow of a triumphant smile lurked about the corner of Snape’s mouth, “Just like you come creeping now…”  
“I didn’t -!” Harry interrupted, but Snape silenced him with a gesture.  
“Your father couldn’t live with the undeserved fame, couldn’t stand being the golden boy, and neither can you. Plagued by doubts, you come to me for that essential drop of bitter wormwood to the brew.”  
“I didn’t come to you!” Harry tried again, “It was you, who -!”  
“I merely had to wait.” Snape retorted, his voice tinged with anger at Harry’s cowardice, “Don’t tell me you didn’t ache for it.”  
Harry hung his head, unable to tell such a lie.  
“Your father ached for it, too. He needed it – needed me – to keep up appearances.   
Snape fell silent for a while, letting his words sink in. Harry thought he understood now, understood the source of Snape’s bitter resentment, and he felt a pang of pity for the scorned professor.   
“And then – my mother took him away from you.” he guessed boldly.  
Snape rose to his feet in an instant, towering over Harry with his hands leaning on the desk: “Don’t you dare weaving sentimental fairytales about me and your blessed parents! For your information, Potter, our competing for the favour of your mother was nothing but a perfect cover.”  
“D- did she know?” Harry ventured to ask.  
Snape sat down again, calmed that Harry’s pity was transferred from himself to Lily.  
“No. For all she knew, we were sworn enemies. And so we were. Only the part of our rivalry concerning her was a mere charade.”  
“Oh.”  
“That was a competition your father won, naturally, having much greater need for a beautiful, dutiful wife to perfect the illusion.” He paused to estimate the effect on his words on Harry, “I admit I sometimes feel sorry for your mother, Potter. In her darkest moments, the thought must have crossed her mind, that –“  
“What?” Harry asked breathlessly.  
“That she would have won a purer love, had she chosen me. Not that your father didn’t treat her well, he did, cherished her – as one cherishes a precious trophy.” Snape put cruel emphasis on the last few words.  
“Don’t speak like that of my parents!” Harry blurted out.  
“But it’s true.” Snape raised his eyebrows in mock regret, the ghost of a triumphant smile once again passing over his face.  
Harry spun around and dashed blindly for the door, knowing full well it was.


	3. Mischief Managed

Harry was wandering the corridors at night again. He walked blindly, not daring to use his wand as a light after he had lost the marauder’s map to professor Snape. He didn’t need to see where he was going anyway, just walking aimlessly about on sleepless nights.   
He had hardly been able to sleep since detention with Snape. He hadn’t seen the professor since, not seen him apart from in class, that is, and then Snape had treated him as if he were invisible, not even bothering to slap him over the head. Harry had ached for it, ached for a slap over the head at least, and he had dreamed of other times. The thrill of Snape’s strong fingers gripping the back of his head and forcing it down – he hadn’t even known it to be a thrill at the time, but it was. Why else had he kept provoking the easily provoked teacher so?  
And then there was the memory of how Snape had heroically burst in on professor Lupin and Sirius Black, believing Sirius to be a dangerous murderer escaped from Azkaban, and how Harry had been forced to disarm him because of the misunderstanding. How Snape had nevertheless tried to shield Harry against Lupin in his werewolf form.  
There were other memories too that kept replaying in his head, more recent ones. Such as the time when Harry had interrupted Snape with Igor in the potions store, the strange electricity in the air into which he was drawn when Snape bid him to take Igor’s place in the crowded storeroom. The fear-tinged thrill of being in that secluded space with the professor, and the relief-tinged disappointment of being thrown out again. Snape had threatened to drop veritaserum in his pumpkin juice and Harry had trembled to think of the dirty little secrets the potions master might thus find out. One dirty little secret in particular: the truth about Harry’s pathetic schoolboy crush on his sadistic teacher. Because that’s what it was, he might as well spell it out.  
And then the detention, that had exceeded his most feverish fantasies. And now… Snape was treating him like air, not even granting him the favour of a sarcastic glance or spiteful word. And so he was wandering the school corridors at night like one of the restless ghouls inhabiting the castle, pondering over and over how he might make the teacher at least look at him again.  
Not having heard anyone approach, he suddenly felt a hand pressed over his mouth, a hand stifling his surprised cry. A bleak, blueish light went on, and a piece of parchment was offered to him by a hand barely sticking out of a long, black, buttoned sleeve. Harry drew a sharp breath through his nose – Snape’s other hand being firmly clasped over his mouth – partly out of relief and partly out of a new kind of fear.  
“Take it.” said that deep voice that made him weak in the knees, and he obligingly took the piece of parchment he recognized as the marauder’s map Snape had confiscated from him a couple of years ago.  
He shivered to see his own name and Snape’s so close to each other on the map as to be almost illegible.  
“I want you to keep a close eye on that map, Mr Potter,” Snape commanded, “Don’t even blink.”  
Harry nodded eagerly and Snape finally let go of his mouth. Harry panted and the map he was holding trembled before his eyes as Snape slowly, methodically removed his trousers. This time, he first entered Harry with a finger, smeared with some kind of potion. One finger, then two. Harry gasped as he felt himself expand in anticipation of the larger object. Finally, the professor’s cock was pushing at the entrance, and he let out a cry that made Snape close his hand once again firmly over his mouth. Harry bit the hand and knew it to be needed – he would have been noisy had he only been able to. He moved with Snape’s movements, his eyes pressed shut until he suddenly recalled his task to look at the map. What he saw made him stiff with fear. The hand over his mouth prevented him from speaking, so he waved the map wildly until Snape let go of him.   
“Dumbledore’s coming!” Harry let out in a panicky whisper, and was brutally deprived of the teacher’s cock up his arse.  
“Mischief managed. Nox.” Snape uttered in a low voice that sent shivers up Harry’s spine, and in the dark he hurried to rearrange his clothes.  
Soon the faint light of Dumbledore’s wand appeared around the corner, and Harry strained to collect himself.  
“Severus. Harry. What’s the matter?” the headmaster asked.  
“Nothing!” Harry replied quickly – all too quickly.  
Snape gave him a murderous glance and answered Dumbledore with impressive composure: “It seems young Mr Potter has inherited his father’s bad habit of sneaking around the school corridors at night.”  
As he said it he gripped Harry by the ear as though he had just caught him in the act, and the unexpected touch made Harry come in his pants. He whimpered as if in pain.  
“Is that so?” Dumbledore said disinterestedly, “I’ll leave you to deal with it, Severus. But don’t be too hard on the boy.”  
The last sentence was uttered with a slightly worried look at Harry, who was standing upright merely thanks to Snape’s grip on his ear. The headmaster left them in darkness, but Snape lit a small spark in the air with a flick of his wand and used it to indicate the map. Harry obediently returned it to him, and he let go of Harry’s ear to receive it in his left hand. All the while he was keeping his right hand, the one Harry had bitten, closed and hidden in his sleeve. Harry licked his lips and tasted blood. He wondered whether Dumbledore had noticed. He wondered whether he would leave some kind of mark on Snape, or whether the potions master would brew some concoction to erase the wound.  
“I’ll be watching you, Potter.” Snape said, “Wherever you go when you leave your bed at night, I will know.”  
He caught the spark of light in his hand and was engulfed by darkness. Harry leaned his back against the cold stone wall and let himself sink to the floor, a foolish grin plastered all over his face.


	4. In His Private Quarters

It had been weeks since teacher and student had almost been caught at it by the headmaster. Harry had done a lot of wandering about the corridors at night, but to no avail. Snape had not come, and Harry had begun to doubt the meaning of the professor’s parting line. Perhaps he had only meant that he would keep Harry under surveillance, in case he was up to some mischief?   
In class he still treated Harry like air, and even Ron, who was always sitting next to Harry, received far fewer slaps to the head than usual. Just today, Ron had mockingly suggested old professor Snape might be in love, since he was suddenly so good-natured. “That’s not even remotely funny!” Harry had snapped back, hurting his perplexed friend’s feelings. But at least… at least he had caught a glimpse of white bandage under the professor’s right sleeve and known that he had indeed left a mark upon him. But that too was weeks ago, now the bandage was long gone.  
Now, this night, Harry had feverishly wandered further than he had ever gone before, wandered all the way to the narrow, dark tower where Snape had his office and potions classroom and, Harry presumed, his private residence. Naturally, Harry had never been there, but there were some rooms that were off limits to students in that tower, and he assumed that was where the professor lived.   
Getting down the winding spiral staircase to the potions classroom in the dark took what felt like hours. One more flight of stairs and he was at a floor he had never visited before. In the darkness he could see the faintest of lights spill out on the floor at the end of a small hall, from which the staircase continued its spiralling journey downward for who knows how long, perhaps cutting through the entire castle down to the Slytherin common room under the lake. He cautiously approached the light and felt a large wooden door under his hands. He pressed his back against the rough stone wall next to the door, unsure of what to do next. He didn’t dare to knock, nor to venture inside unannounced.   
He didn’t need to. After a short wait, during which he thought he could hear his heartbeats echoing across the hall, hasty footsteps approached and the door opened just enough on creaky hinges for a hand to reach out and pull him inside by his collar. He found himself face to face – well, face to chest – with the object of his desire. Professor Snape was fully dressed, as if he hadn’t yet gone to bed. Of course he hadn’t. He’d been tracing Harry’s approach on the map. The thought encouraged Harry, took the edge of his fear.  
“Potter. How dare you come here?” Snape demanded.  
Harry bit his lip: “But, sir, which place could be safer than your own, private –“  
“And what if something should happen, as it so often does here at Hogwarts, and someone should come to fetch me, hm, Potter?” Snape raised an eyebrow.  
“I didn’t think of that, sir.” Harry admitted breathlessly.  
“Clearly not.” Snape noted, his voice tinged with repressed fury.  
“But sir, I couldn’t bear to wait any longer!” Harry begged, “We didn’t get to finish –“  
“Really?” Snape interrupted sarcastically, “It seemed to me, Potter, as if you did indeed – finish.”  
Harry blinked. Did the potions master notice everything?  
“But – but I need you! I want your cock up my –!“  
Snape grabbed him by the throat and pressed his back against the door, almost lifting him from the floor, in order to silence him.  
“You foulmouthed -!” he began, but suddenly let go of Harry and continued in a much more restrained tone: “Undress yourself.”  
For a moment, Harry was unsure whether it was a spell meant to undress him or an order. It turned out to be an order, and he hastened to comply, fumbling painfully with every button. Snape flicked his head at a Spartan bed Harry had failed to notice in a corner of the poorly lit room, and he backed towards it. It was neatly made, another sign that the professor had never gone to bed that night. Snape put his fingertips to Harry’s naked chest and made him tumble backwards across the bed.  
“Consider yourself lucky, Potter. I shall comply with your request, despite your insolence.”  
He calmly tugged at his long sleeves to get them out of the way, and took out his erect member. Harry imagined how the potions master must have been sitting with the marauder’s map, tracing Harry’s steps, his cock stiffening with anticipation, and the thought made him shiver.  
“Cold, Potter?” Snape asked mockingly.  
The room was indeed chilly, but Harry hadn’t noticed until now and he would soon again forget. Snape placed Harry’s legs over his own shoulders, spreading him wide, and bent over him. Harry moaned hard as he entered him, the new position allowing for new sensations, one of them being his own hard cock rubbing against the rough fabric of Snape’s coat. He writhed and groaned, completely at the mercy of his pent-up desire. With the double stimulation it didn’t take many minutes for him to come with a whimper and a last thrashing of his head.  
He opened his eyes just in time to see Snape’s upper lip curl, his piercing, black eyes narrow and the line between his eyebrows deepen in orgasm. Then Snape pulled back, produced a white handkerchief from his pocket and begun wiping at the mess Harry had made on the front of his black coat with a look of disgust upon his face. Harry crept toward him across the bed and licked the coat clean. Snape let him.  
“Why, you exquisite little tart.” he muttered, but seemed to regret the compliment and roughly pulled Harry out of bed, “Get dressed.”  
Harry hurried to find his clothes on the floor and do as he was told. Snape watched, his fingertips resting on one another.  
“Now you must promise me never to come here again.” He said it with his curiously melodious intonation, betraying no emotion.  
“But –“ Harry protested.  
“Promise me!” Snape repeated, not raising his voice as much as letting the words resound emphatically, and took a threatening step forward.  
Harry swallowed a lump in his throat and forced himself to say: “I promise.”  
Snape gestured for him to get out the door.  
“And Potter?”  
“Yes sir?” Harry turned around in the doorway.  
“Try to control your… emotions, will you? You put us both at risk, and furthermore –“  
“Yes?”  
“It sickens me.”  
The door slammed shut in his face.


	5. First Occlumency Lesson

“I did it!” Harry blurted out, amazed, “I protected my mind!”  
“That was just warming up, Mr Potter.” Snape retorted contemptuously. I shall now attempt to penetrate your mind… while penetrating your body.”  
“But… but that’s not fair!” Harry protested, “How could I possibly -?!”  
“That is the ultimate test.” Snape replied calmly, “If you pass it, you may stand a chance against the dark lord himself.”   
Harry swallowed hard, feeling what little concentration he had been able to muster up to avert the teacher’s attacks shatter.   
“Well?” Snape raised an eyebrow and Harry obediently stood up from his chair and went over to the desk to bend over it.   
Snape ripped off his trousers with brutal impatience and entered him immediately. Harry gasped in pain but he would let neither pain nor pleasure throw him off guard. He was determined to prove himself worthy and summoned strength he didn’t know he had left to defend his mind against his hard tutor. He could feel Snape thrusting against the walls of his mind with every thrust of his cock, and finally they burst and he couldn’t care less which dark secrets he spilled for the immense pleasure of being fucked by his teacher. A pleasure which did, however, abruptly come to an end.  
“Useless!” Snape spat out, “You’re pathetic. A true Potter, slave to your filthy desires.”  
“Oh yeah, what about yourself?” Harry retaliated desperately, “You couldn’t keep your hands off my father and now you can’t keep your hands off me!”  
“I am not a slave.” Snape answered coolly, “I let your father go and create his perfect little family, remember?”  
“And now you’re fucking his son!” Harry shouted furiously.  
He felt Snape’s hand tug hard at his hair and force him to look the teacher in the eye.  
“I may be, as you put it, fucking you, Potter. However, I am not fucked by you.” he remarked with emphasis on every word.  
Harry didn’t know how to reply to that.  
“Now, if you don’t mind, I suggest we continue the lesson.” It wasn’t a question, “Prepare yourself.”  
The double penetration continued, and no matter how hard Harry tried to defend the integrity of his mind, he always reached a point where the pleasure made him forget himself and the teacher burst through.  
“It’s all me in there, isn’t it? Pathetic.” Snape’s voice was dripping with contempt and Harry felt his cheeks turn scarlet.  
The humiliation increased his determination to resist the teacher’s attacks. Not just resist – retaliate. He wanted – needed – to know whether he was in Snape’s mind too. When Snape renewed his attack he fought back valiantly and their minds remained closed to one another. Finally, a sigh slipped past Snape’s lips and Harry attempted to take advantage of the momentarily breach in his defence for a doubled attack. To no avail. His teacher’s mind was a fortress, even at the moment of climax. Utterly spent, Harry dropped his defences and let his mind be freely invaded as he too climaxed.   
“Since you are not making any progress whatsoever, I think that’s enough for now.” Snape said coolly as he buttoned his pants.  
Harry nodded and hesitated, hoping for lessons of a different kind to commence.  
“Well, what are you waiting for?” Snape raised his eyebrow, “Do I have to repeat myself: The lesson is over.”  
“But –“ Harry begun.  
Snape’s only answer was to raise his eyebrow a touch further, motionlessly awaiting an explanation.   
“Nothing!” Harry said and stormed out of the room, slamming the door behind him.


	6. Second Occlumency Lesson

Harry was seated in his usual uncomfortable armchair in the potions classroom. His behind felt a bit sore, more from the last Occlumency lesson than from the hard wooden seat of the chair. Snape was standing by his desk with his back turned towards Harry, stretching his wrists and finger joints in preparation for the wand waving he had once called “foolish”. Suddenly, he faced Harry and came towards him, his thin, black wand outstretched.  
“Shall we warm up as usual?” he asked and raised his wand at Harry without awaiting a reply.  
“Professor!” Harry interrupted him.  
“Yes?” Snape lowered his wand and came and stood right before him.  
“I – I think I’m ready to move straight onto moment number two.” Harry boldly placed his hand on the professor’s groin and felt something stir.  
“I will have none of this insolent behaviour.” Snape said, but he didn’t remove Harry’s hand.  
Harry swiftly undid the row of little black buttons and took out his teacher’s stiffening sex. He had a plan. The plan was to surprise Snape, throw him off balance, catch him off his guard. To penetrate him. Not literally, of course, that Harry didn’t even dare dreaming of. He took his tutor’s cock in his mouth and sucked on it.  
“Have it your way.” Snape said and immediately proceeded to invade his mind.   
What if he saw what Harry was up to? Harry hadn’t thought of that. But Snape usually fished out older memories during his raids into Harry’s mind, and he showed no signs of being aware of Harry’s cunning plan. Not that his showing no signs was a sure sign of anything. He did after all master the noble art of self control. But Harry had shown quite a propensity for the less noble art of cock sucking, and he could feel the force of Snape’s attacks weaken.  
Now would be a good time for a counterattack, but he could not utter any spells with a cock in his mouth. He hadn’t thought of that, either. But speaking wasn’t all and he could still think them. Perhaps merely thinking the words would give Snape less time to prepare.   
Having his tutor’s cock in his mouth also put Harry in control in a way quite different from having it up his arse. He could feel the first drop of salt on his tongue and focused all his energy, all his power on retaliating, reversing the attack upon his mind.  
Then it happened. As the semen flooded his mouth he burst through and entered the professor’s mind.  
He felt… desire, knowing it wasn’t his own but Snape’s. He felt the sweetness of… surrender. Surrender? To what or whom would professor Severus Snape ever surrender? To the dark lord himself?  
Harry stepped back, realising he had somehow been inside Snape’s body and was now stepping out of it to get an overview of the scene. At first he sort of raised his torso out of Snape’s and saw his head before him, cheek pressed against a black marble surface, brows knit, lips parted over clenched teeth. Then Harry disentangled himself completely from Snape’s body and saw someone standing behind him, between his parted legs. Harry tried to walk around the couple to get a better look, and noticed he could indeed do it, although he felt eerily disembodied.  
That someone standing behind Snape was Lucius Malfoy. He had both of Snape’s hands locked behind his back in a firm grip, but Harry knew this to be a mere formality. Still somehow one with Snape’s thoughts he felt it to be very polite of Lucius to thus free him from responsibility for the situation. With his free hand, the left one, Lucius used the serpent’s head on his cane to remove the strands of dark hair from Snape’s face.  
“You quite enjoy this, don’t you, Severus?” he asked, his lips curled into a cruel grin, “I bet you feel right at home in this position.”  
Snape didn’t reply, merely closed his eyes and drew his breath. Harry could feel with him a wish that Lucius would shut his mouth and just… have him!  
“Very well.” Lucius said, as if he, too, could read Snape’s mind, “I shan’t disappoint.”  
Sure enough of his victory to let go of Snape’s hands, although not of the wand enclosed in his cane, he bared Snape’s bottom and took out his own hard cock. Harry felt a surge of anticipation that nauseated him, nauseated him because he knew it so well. He could feel what Snape felt when Lucius cock slid inside him, which was - almost – like being fucked by Lucius Malfoy directly.  
“Enough!”   
It was Snape’s voice, but the Snape Harry was feeling with certainly hadn’t had enough. If he’d beg for anything, he’d beg for more.   
The whole scene began crumbling and Harry found himself once again in the chair in the potions classroom. Snape was breathing raggedly and hastily tucking his cock back into his trousers. He had a wild look in his eyes that Harry didn’t recognize. Harry felt small and quite crushed, instead of powerful as he had expected. What had he done? What in the heavens had he done?  
“I – I’m sorry.” he stammered, “Honestly, I didn’t mean to –“  
“Get out.” Snape uttered in the most fearsome voice Harry had ever heard, a voice which made him automatically stumble to his feet and toward the door.  
“And do not come back. Ever.” was the last words he heard before the heavy door slammed shut behind him.


	7. The Invisibility Cloak

Harry didn’t see Snape anymore, and this time it was for real. Not only had the Occlumency lessons come to an end, furthermore Snape had told Dolores Umbridge that Harry was a hopeless case who he had only agreed to keep in his class because Dumbledore insisted, and as a result, Harry no longer took potions. Ron and Hermione reported that the professor’s temper was worse than ever, and once Ron had even let Harry feel a bump on his head from a particularly heavy book Snape had hit him with. Harry thought he’d do anything to swap places with Ron, but had to feign relief that he was safe from the teacher’s abuse.  
At meals, he was unable to look at Snape, literally unable. Snape was behind his back and Umbridge had strictly forbidden any squirming in the seats or chatting across tables. Mr Filch kept a close eye on the students, making sure they faced their plates and finished them in silence. All Harry ever saw of Snape was a dark figure at the teachers’ table when the students filed into the dining hall, and sometimes a billowing black cloak crossing the courtyard or vanishing through a doorway.  
But there was one thing he had that Snape didn’t know of. The invisibility cloak. He had to make sure he didn’t use it when Snape traced his steps on the marauder’s map though, or Snape would know and no doubt confiscate it. Sometimes Harry dreamt of doing that, just to feel Snape’s hand rip the cloak off him, feel the teacher’s eyes upon him once more. But no, that would be the end of it. With Umbridge as the new headmistress, Snape might even get Harry expelled.  
Harry didn’t doubt Snape’s true loyalties lied with Dumbledore though. The professor had proven that when he’d lied to Umbridge about being out of veritaserum to use on Harry. Harry wasn’t sure Snape protected him, but he was sure he protected Dumbledore’s secrets.   
Knowing Snape was loyal to Dumbledore meant knowing he couldn’t let the marauder’s map be seen by Umbridge, or Umbridge would seize it and use it to survey staff and students. Which probably meant he didn’t use it during the day. Which meant Harry spent as much of the days as he could sneaking around the castle in his invisibility cloak. It wasn’t easy. In broad daylight, footprints and disturbed dust and cobweb could easily betray him. Furthermore, he had to do it when he wasn’t with Ron and Hermione, which meant mostly during potions class. Which had the advantage of him knowing exactly where Snape was, but the disadvantage of the isolated potions classroom high up in a tower being particularly tricky to spy upon.  
One day, when he’d been able to shake off Ron and Hermione and was creeping about in the invisibility cloak as usual, he spotted not one but two black robes moving down a rarely used gallery he wasn’t sure where it lead to. One of them no doubt belonged to Snape, but the other figure? Too tall to be professor McGonagall and, ah yes, too blond. Lucius Malfoy. Supposedly here for the quidditch match his son Draco was partaking in tomorrow morning. Supposedly here on some more shady business as well, he and Umbridge both being on Voldemort’s side.  
Harry hurried after them as fast as he dared to move, only to lose track of them at the end of the gallery. Which of the narrow, dark corridors had they chosen? He heard hushed, yet upset, voices and moved in their direction.  
When he found them, Lucius had Snape up against the wall, threatening him. Harry’s heart pounded in case Snape was in danger. Not that he couldn’t defend himself – Harry longed to see him throw that slippery Malfoy to the ground with a strike of his wand.  
He crept into an alcove where he reckoned he wouldn’t be stumbled upon and observed them. Snape had his head turned to the side, refusing to look Lucius in the eyes, but Lucius used the cane in his gloved hand to force Snape to face him. And then – then they kissed. Harry’s eyes widened in disbelief.   
He had assumed the memory he had intruded upon had been an old one, from when Snape and Lucius were both in Voldemort’s army. But perhaps Snape was merely keeping up appearances in front of Lucius, who thought that they still were? That’s what Harry tried to tell himself. Yet the intensity of the memory told him that perhaps Snape just couldn’t resist. Perhaps Harry had stumbled upon the one thing over which the master of Occlumency didn’t have control. He for one knew what it was like to crave someone despite oneself. He didn’t even like Snape, Snape had always been rotten to him, cruel and unfair. But at least Snape wasn’t evil, like Lucius Malfoy.  
Snape had his palms pressed flat against the wall, one pale, spidery hand on each side of his body, and his knees seemed to buckle. Harry looked on in horror as Lucius placed his black leather gloves on Snape’s shoulders and forced him to his knees. He couldn’t quite see what was going on, with Snape almost hidden between Lucius’ fur-trimmed cloak and the wall, but he could guess.  
“That’s right.” said Lucius and let out a low chuckle.  
Harry could glimpse that Lucius’ hand had moved from Snape’s shoulder to his hair, and he thought he could feel a tug on his own hair, the memory of Snape’s tug, which made him gasp for air. At that, Lucius turned his head abruptly so that a strand of his almost white hair described an elegant arch through the air. His icy blue eyes stared straight into Harry’s, and for a moment, Harry thought he was discovered despite the invisibility cloak. He felt as if Lucius saw him. Then Lucius suspiciously narrowed his eyes and Harry realised he’d just heard something from the alcove where Harry was hiding.   
Harry didn’t think of what would happen to him if he was discovered. He only thought of Snape’s reaction, and stubbornly held his breath until he felt dizzy. Then Snape did something that made Lucius throw back his head and moan softly, and Harry carefully let out his breath.  
When Lucius was done with Snape he said loftily: “Good day to you, Severus.”  
With a supercilious smile and an arrogant toss of his pale, straight hair he turned around and left. Harry blinked at the painful sight of his tutor still slumped on his knees as if he needed time to collect himself. Not until Lucius had disappeared down the hallway did Snape slowly rise to his feet, carefully brush the dust of his pants, and adjust his sleeves.   
He went in the opposite direction as Lucius, passing by the alcove where Harry was hiding. When he was walking right past Harry, he stopped short and made Harry draw an audible breath.  
“It isn’t what it looks like, Potter.” he said evenly.   
Harry’s heart jumped at the unexpected sound of his name. Snape turned his head towards him, but like a blind person, not quite focusing on him, so Harry understood he couldn’t actually see him. He just – somehow – knew he was there. Had he known the whole time? Had he consciously distracted Lucius when he was about to discover Harry?   
“The memory was real. This was the greatest performance you’ll ever see.” He turned his head from Harry again, and looking straight ahead he said softly, as if speaking to himself: “Fascinating, what a little vanity can do to a potentially great wizard.”  
His mouth twitched in what could almost be described as a smile, then he walked away.


End file.
